Kindred Souls
by Bianca Valdez
Summary: Hazel Levesque and Steve Rogers. Both died in the 40s. Both returned in modern times. And both are heroes. What will happen if they meet in both past and present lives?
1. Chapter 1

Hazel's life was made of goods and bads. Really, all lives are that way, but the ups and downs in her life were rather more exaggerated than most.

She hadn't had an actual 'good' day in a while, so it was all sort of relative at this point, but today, it was different. Today was both good and bad.

It would also become rather significant later in her life.

Seward, Alaska did not have a large population, and for the most part, that population kept to themselves, which suited Hazel just fine. She didn't need anyone else poking around, asking questions about her mother.

Oh, her mother. Marie Levesque, who was once mostly wonderful, was no longer herself. It was as if someone else was living in her body, using her as a puppet to order Hazel around.

That was why Hazel's life had recently been composed mostly of bads. That was also why she spent so much time away from home, an activity that was perfectly safe (if you ignored the occasional polar bear and the fact that she lived in freezing cold Alaska), even for a 13-year-old girl.

But today was different.

It started out much like any other day in Alaska. It was July, and so the sun was shining, riding high in the sky and shining brightly off of the metal rooftops of Seward. The cold was less harsh than usual, at a balmy 56˚, and, standing atop a hill outside of town, Hazel was actually feeling rather good about life. It was times like these that gave her the will to keep living.

Yawning, Hazel stretched her arms out on either side. The chocolate color of her skin contrasted beautifully with her pale bark of the trees behind her, and her golden eyes gleamed with the optimism that came with the startling natural beauty of the wilderness.

Based on the grumblings of her stomach, Hazel decided it must be around noon. She'd left almost immediately after waking up and had been exploring the hills surrounding Seward all morning.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, Hazel put a hand into the pocket of her coat. A smile formed on her face as she felt the soft edges of a dollar bill between her gloveless fingers.

Of course, she could summon all the riches in the world, but she knew the cost that came with them.

The curse.

Shaking her head, Hazel pushed all thoughts of the curse from her mind and headed back down into Seward to buy a pastry at the only bakery in town.

As she trundled down the hill, her feet kicking up dew, her stomach's complaints grew louder. Screwing up her face, Hazel came to a stop and scrutinized the town. Usually, she took the main roads (which, in tiny Seward, were by no means what the rest of the world would call main thoroughfares), but to get to the bakery, it would be faster to take a smaller side street.

Shrugging, Hazel altered her course.

A few minutes later, Hazel found herself walking through town with her hands in her pockets, only slightly lost. It really wasn't that easy to get lost here. After all, if you just followed a road you'd eventually get to Main Street.

Still, her stomach was getting really rather rude by this point, so she stopped to try to figure out where she was.

That was when her day took a turn for the worse.

Two heavyset figures moved to block her path. Hazel stopped dead and stared at them, fingering the crumpled bill in her pocket. These were Harley Jones and Jacob Davison, two boys from Seward's only school. They were known bullies, and though Hazel had yet to feel their cruelty as of yet, she knew it was coming.

"Hey, Levesque," said Harley. "Going somewhere?"

Hazel chewed her lip nervously and started to inch backwards. "Um…maybe?"

"Don't get smart with us, witch's brat," sneered Jacob. "We hear you've got voodoo."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "Picking up tricks from your creepy mommy."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Hazel murmured, taking a full step backwards. Quickly, Jacob lunged at her and grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back. As he did so, the crumpled dollar bill flew from her pocket and fluttered to the ground.

Harley bent and picked it up, holding it close to his face and pretending to inspect it. Then he pocketed and turned back to Hazel.

"I'll keep that," he said meanly. "But it's not enough. Do your creepy tricks."

Hazel struggled to bite back the tears that were beginning to swell in her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know what you mean!" she cried.

"I think you do," growled Jacob in her ear, pulling her arms harder so that they hurt. "You make jewels. Roger Hopkins saw you handling a diamond the other day, and Annie Steffens said she saw you pocketing a piece of gold."

Hazel started to panic, her distress causing her curse to bubble. Unseen by the boys, a gold coin surfaced against the wall of a building, hidden by the shadows. Part of her almost wanted to let them take a jewel, to make them pay for their cruelty, but she wasn't that mean. No one deserved that curse that came with Hazel's gemstones.

"I don't–" moaned Hazel, tears slipping from her eyes and beginning to trace glistening lines down the dark skin of her face.

"Hey!"

The unfamiliar voice froze all three of them, and in front of her, Harley turned to look at the source. As he moved, Hazel saw a large man standing in the alleyway, wearing a leather jacket and battered jeans. Powerful muscles were visible beneath his clothing, and short blond hair swept to the side above glittering blue eyes.

"What's going on here?" the man asked harshly, his eyes hardening as they searched the three of them. The brutish, yet youthful face of Harley; the tight, vice-like grip Jacob kept on Hazel's arms; and the tears that streaked her face.

"Just a little lesson," Harley said, clenching and unclenching his fists. "It's really none of your business, old man."

The stranger crossed his arms in front of his chest, a motion made quite intimidating by the fact that he stood several feet taller than Harley, who was no midget himself. "It looks to me like you're bullying that girl," he said gravely. "I don't like bullies."

"Yeah?" sneered Jacob, shoving Hazel to the ground and moving to stand by Harley. "Well, we don't like people sticking their noses in our business." His words seemed as sneering and confident as usual, but Hazel detected an underlying tremor.

The man lowered his face the boy's eyes level. "Get lost," he said, each syllable filled with the loathing that only a former victim of bullying can summon. And though he only spoke two words, the underlying message was thus: 'I am bigger and stronger than you. Don't mess with me.'

The boys did the smart thing.

They turned and ran.

Hazel flinched as the man turned his gaze to her, but his eyes were soft. Reaching out a hand, he helped her to her feet and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

"You alright?"

"I-I think so," said Hazel, reaching one chocolate-colored hand up to wipe away the tears that had soaked her skin. "Thank you…for chasing them off."

The stranger smiled. "Hey, no problem," he said. "It's like I said. I don't like bullies."

Hazel nodded and stared at the ground. "Thank you," she repeated softly.

The strange knelt on one knee and took her hand in his. "Who were those kids?" he asked gently.

"They…they're just two boys at my school," murmured Hazel. "Really, it's nothing. I'm fine."

The man regarded her somewhat sadly. In this girl, he saw some of himself, back when he was…smaller. Though she was physically weak, her mental strength was great, and a kindness and compassion shone through her golden eyes.

"What's your name?"

The question caught Hazel by surprise. "My…name?" she asked hesitantly. The man nodded. "Uh…Hazel."

He smiled. "I'm Steve. Do you need help getting home?"

"Oh…" Hazel thought for a moment. "I'm a little lost, but if I can find Main Street I'll be fine."

Steve nodded, returning to his feet and once again taking Hazel's hand in his. In silence, the two walked through the quiet back alleys of Seward until they reached the Main Street.

"Steve," Hazel said hesitantly. "Where are you from? I've never seen you here before."

"Brooklyn," answered the man. "I'm here to help with an army rally."

Hazel almost laughed, but stopped herself out of politeness. "An army rally? In Seward?"

Steve chuckled. "No, technically it's in Anchorage. There's a training camp there. The boys are getting sent to the front in a week, we thought they could use a little pep talk."

"So…what are you doing here?" asked the girl.

"Just thought it'd be nice to get out for a while," said Steve. "See what the local life is like."

Hazel nodded and looked away. At that moment, her stomach rumbled loudly.

"Hey, you hungry?" asked Steve. Hazel nodded.

"I had a dollar for the bakery, but…." she trailed off. "I guess I'll just wait until dinner."

Steve shook his head and reached into his pocket. He was about to say something, when a sharp, British-sounding voice cut through the air.

"Steve!"

Hazel turned. A woman with curly brown hair and an army uniform stood on the street behind her, watching them.

"Coming, Peggy!" called Steve, walking towards her. As he passed Hazel, he pressed something into her hand.

"Spend it well," he said. "And keep out of trouble." He raised one hand to his forehead in salute. "It was nice meeting you, Hazel."

And just like that, he was gone.

Hazel looked at her hand. In it, crisply folded, was a five-dollar bill. A smile flickered across her lips, and she skipped off towards the bakery.

For the moment, she was happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**The rights to Captain America belong to the Marvel Franchise, and the rights to Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Heroes of Olympus belong to Rick Riordan.**

Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, raised his heavily muscled arms above his head in a stretch, attempting to ease out the kinks that inevitably came alongside with his line of work. He wore an outfit similar to the one he used to prefer, all those years ago in the 40s. Though not exactly the same, the battered jacket and plain white tee gave him a sense of comfort in this futuristic world.

The hustle and bustle of New York City filled the air with noises, and Steve couldn't stop a smile coming to his lips. No matter how much it had changed in the last 70 years, at core it was still the same place.

"Morning, Cap," said a voice. Steve turned to see Natasha Romanoff, the former S.H.I.E.L.D agent who had become his friend. Just a month ago, they had taken down the HYDRA infested agency, and Steve had discovered that his best friend, Bucky Barnes, was still alive after all.

"Hey, Tash," he said distractedly. He'd been searching for Bucky ever since the last incident, but the Winter Soldier had yet to appear. Steve was getting tired.

"Any luck?" asked Natasha. Steve shook his head.

"No, not yet." Giving a quiet grunt of frustration, he looked out across the city once more. "He's just disappeared."

"You know what?" Steve turned to look at his companion, raising an eyebrow. "Let's go get coffee."

Steve shook his head. "No, I'm alright. I've got to keep–"

Natasha put a firm hand on the Captain's shoulder and fixed her dark eyes on him. "Steve, you've been working hard. You need a break. Sit down, have a cup of coffee, read a book, and then you can go back to beating up the bad guys and searching for Barnes."

Steve sighed. "You're right."

A few minutes later, Steve and Natasha sat at a table by the window of a small coffee shop, each one nursing a steaming mug. Voices chattered pleasantly, and Steve smiled as he took a sip of the dark brew.

Across the table, Natasha was watching him with the concerned eye of a friend, as if to make sure he wouldn't run off and do something stupid. Really, she had no need to worry, as Steve was not the sort of person who would do that.

But as Steve looked up to compliment her choice of café, his eyes fell on a young couple seated a few tables away. The boy's back was to him, and from what Steve could see, he appeared heavyset, perhaps a bit on the chubby side, with a black buzz cut.

And the girl….

She had skin the color of chocolate, smooth like the coffee Steve held. Her curly, cinnamon-colored hair bounced around her face as she laughed at something the boy had said, and her golden eyes sparkled brightly.

She looked just like….

"Steve! Steve, what's wrong?" Steve realized that Natasha was shaking him. He shook her off.

"I'm fine. Just…just zoned out for a minute there. Sorry."

Natasha regarded him suspiciously, with the eye of someone who, practiced at lying themselves, could tell when the truth was being withheld from them. But she let it be, and for that, Steve was greatful.

But he couldn't take his eyes off the girl. She looked so much like another little girl whom he had met all those years ago, before he was a hero, back when he was just a dancing monkey.

Even as he watched, her eyes caught on something over her companion's shoulder, and her laughter died. One hand tapped the boy's one fist, and she nodded her head in the direction of whatever he had seen.

Trying to appear casual, Steve glanced behind him. Three women had entered the café, which should have had no significance, except that something just seemed….off about them. Steve could have sworn that they were hissing, and the pupils of their eyes were like slits.

They were headed straight towards the young couple.

No one else in the café seemed to notice, but Steve's mind was fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Listening hard and filtering out the surrounding chatter, Steve was just able to make out the boy's words.

"Uh…Hazel? What do we do?"

_Hazel._

That was the little girl's name, all those years ago. Was it possible…?

"Um…" the girl bit her lip. "I don't know, you're the praetor!"

Praetor?

"Well, yeah," muttered the boy nervously. "But we're trapped, and if we do anything the mortals will…"

The girl stood abruptly and put her hand to her belt. Steve noticed a glint of metal, which was odd. Was she carrying a gun?

"Let's go!" the girl said, grabbing the boy and pulling him towards the entrance. They dodged around the three women, who hissed at them, and ran out the door, the women following right behind them. As they went, Steve saw the boy touch his backpack, and it shimmered slightly, turning into a…was that a quiver of arrows?

Steve stood, grabbing his shield from where it was leaning against his chair. Natasha looked at him strangely. "Steve?" she asked warily, rising to her feet as well. Steve looked down at her, brows furrowed.

"I gotta go, Nat. I'll be fine." With that, he followed the strange pair outside.

Where did they go? Steve looked around, clutching his shield. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of purple.

Both children had been wearing purple tee shirts. Steve picked up his pace, running around the corner of the café until he found himself in a small alleyway.

The two children stood facing him, though it was not he who was the subject of their gazes. The three women stood in front of them, hissing and leering menacingly. Even as he watched, the air shimmered around them, and Steve's eyes widened as he saw that the women seemed to be covered in scales, with twin serpent trunks instead of legs.

"Foooolisssh demigodsssss," they hissed, advancing on the children. "You thought that with the death of the Earttttth Mother, we would all dissssssapear. You were wrong! The Doorssss may be clossssed, and Thanatossss unchained, but sssstill we ssssshall return from Tartarussss!"

Without thinking, Steve threw his shield. It hit one of the snake women straight in the back, but when it returned to his hand, it seemed as though the woman was unaffected. She was angry, though, and whirled to face him.

"Be gone, mortal!" she cried, eyes flashing. "Thissss issss nooooot your affair."

"Yeah?" challenged Steve. "Well, I don't like bullies."

The girl, who looked so much like Hazel, gasped at the familiarity of his words. She moved forward as the snake women were distracted, slicing her sword through the one whom Steve's shield had hit. The woman let out a hissing scream and evaporated into dust.

The second snake woman turned to her, raising her clawed hand to strike the girl. Before she could, however, a gold-tipped arrow pierced her skin, causing her to explode in much the same fashion as her sister.

There was only one left now. Her green eyes burned with fury as she lunged at Hazel, who dodged the blow and swung her sword again. This action was not affective, however, as the snake woman sidestepped the blow and came at Hazel's side.

Steve leapt forward, ramming the snake woman with his shield and knocking off her blow. Hazel's sword came sweeping in a golden arc, cutting through the snake woman and killing her. Just like her sisters, she turned to dust.

"Hazel!" shouted the boy, running to her. He dropped his bow and ran his hands up and down her body, inspecting her for injuries. "Did she get you?"

"No…" murmured Hazel, staring at Steve. "No, I'm–"

As Steve watched, the words died in her mouth and her eyes became unfocused. The boy caught her as she fell backwards, still staring into nothingness.

"Oh, no, not another blackout!" the boy murmured, cradling Hazel tenderly. "I thought you said you were done with them!"

Steve stepped forward concerned. "What's wrong with her?"

The boy looked up at him with a frown. "Nothing. She's fine. Look, I don't know who you are, or why you think you need to be sticking your nose in other peoples' businesses, but–" his voice caught as his eyes fell on the red, white, and blue shield in Steve's hand.

"You–you're Captain America?"

Slowly, Steve nodded.

The boy's eyes hardened again. "It doesn't matter. This isn't your problem. You should just let me deal with it."

Helplessly, Steve shrugged. "Look, kid, if she's hurt, we should get her to a hospital. My job is helping people."

"We don't need help!" said the boy stubbornly.

This was new to Steve. Most boys would be thrilled to meet Captain America, but this one just seemed to want him to leave.

"You're not at all excited by the fact that you're being offered help by Captain America?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm Canadian, actually," said the boy. "And how many times do I have to tell you this? We don't need any help!"

"Steve?"

Steve turned. Natasha stood with her hands on her hips at the mouth of the alleyway. "What's going on?"

"Nothing!" cried the boy, struggling to his feet with Hazel in his arms. Reaching down, he grabbed her sword and his bow, putting the former in his belt and the latter over his arm. Then he shoved past both Steve and Natasha, running out into the bustling city street.

Part of Steve wanted to just let the boy go, but he didn't want the pair to get hurt, and he had to know more about Hazel.

So, burning with curiosity, Steve followed them.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Sorry this one's so short and it took so long to come out. I just honestly don't have any time for anything, what with all my classes wrapping up for the holidays. I also don't feel super confident about my ability to write from Frank's point of view, so I apologize if he's a little out of character. Anyway, here you go! _**

Frank crouched behind a building, cradling Hazel's small frame in his arms. "Wake up!" he murmured, watching her carefully. He knew what it was: a blackout. But he thought she'd said she was finished with those…

Something about the sight of that man had triggered another one.

"Where are you?" he whispered. "Why didn't you take me with you?" Frank bit his lip and stared into her unfocused eyes. He wished someone else was here, anyone. Percy would know what to do. Or Nico, since he was her brother. Really, any of the seven would do, even Leo.

"Hazel…." whispered Frank, leaning down to deliver a kiss on her forehead. "I'll keep you safe until you get back."

"Kid."

Frank's head snapped up. The man from before was leaning against the wall of the building, watching them with his brows furrowed.

Frank eased Hazel to the ground and got to his feet, glaring at Captain America. "Why can't you just leave us alone?" he frowned.

The Captain sighed. "Look, kid, I'm just curious. Who were those women? Why were they attacking you? What….what were they?"

"Huh?" Frank asked, surprised. "What do you mean, 'what are they?' "

"Well, they obviously weren't human," said Captain America.

"You….you saw them?" stuttered Frank. "How–"

"Frank…"

Frank whirled. Hazel no longer lay on the ground. Her eyes had refocused and she was getting to her feet, eyes fixed on the Captain.

"Steve?" she asked hesitantly. "How…how are you here?"

"Are you…" stuttered the Captain. "Hazel?"

Frank's eyes flicked between the two, his mind trying to connect the dots. _"Come on, Fai!"_ he could hear his grandmother saying. _"Zhang men are never left in the dark! Figure it out!"_

"Hazel…you know Captain America?" he asked. "How?"

"Captain….America?" said Hazel, her eyes widening in realization. "Steve, you're Captain America?"

The man–Steve–nodded. "Yeah. I guess you've heard about me, then?"

Frank struggled to remember about Captain America. Something about the 40s….and a crashed ship….and ice? Did Hazel know him from her first life?

"Why are you still alive? And the same age?" asked Steve.

Hazel shot Frank a nervous glance, chewing her lip, a habit of hers that Frank found rather cute. He drew closer to her and whispered in her ear.

"Mist."

"I….he was kind to me. I'll tell you later. I don't want to…"

"He's a mortal! He can't know! Also, was your blackout from when you met him?"

"Frank, I think he saw the dracanae! And yeah. But…ugh! Annabeth would know what to do."

"Probably. But you should use the Mist. And yeah he said he saw them, and I don't know why, but we can't just tell him!"

Hazel sighed, looking slightly depressed. Then she turned back to Steve dejectedly. The Captain had been standing there, slightly confused, during their exchange, and smiled reassuringly at her.

Shooting Frank a last, reluctant glance, Hazel leveled her eyes on Steve and waved her hand. "You never saw us," she said sadly. "We were never here."

Steve's brow furrowed as the Mist swirled around him. Before he could recover his senses, Frank grabbed Hazel's hand and together they fled from the scene, back towards Long Island, and back to Camp Half-blood, from which, tomorrow morning, they would depart to Camp Jupiter.

Frank peeked at Hazel to make sure she was all right, and was horrified to find that she was crying, silent tears staining her face.

"Hey, you ok?" Frank asked, halting in his tracks and putting a comforting arm around her.

She shook her head. "Frank, I just…" With a sob, she put her head into his shoulder.

"Hazel," he said as gently as possible. "How did you meet Captain America?"

The daughter of Pluto lifted her face from where it had been slowly soaking Frank's tee shirt. "In Seward," she said, her voice tight with the pain of remembering. "In the 40s, before I….before I died. There were these two boys from my school…they were big, and mean, and….well, it was the 40s. I'm African American. I didn't have control of the curse, either…"

Hazel let out a sigh and put her face back in his shirt. "Steve chased off the bullies. He gave me a dollar for lunch. And what's more, he restored my strength.

"He was just visiting. He had a thing in Anchorage, something about rallying a group of soldiers who were being sent off to war. But he was so kind, and I never saw him after that day. I thought maybe he'd come back someday, but I never did find out. I died the month after.

"I never got to thank him. And now I get to see him again, and I have to use the Mist on him. It just….it's not fair."

Frank sat his chin atop her curly head, wrapping his arms around her. "We're going back home tomorrow," he said. "We can just forget about all this."

Hazel pushed back from him, gold eyes almost glowing. "Don't you understand?!" she cried. "I don't want to forget! He's one of the only people in the world who knows what it's like to come back, and I had to make him forget!"

With that, she turned and fled, leaving Frank behind. Dejectedly, he trudged after, wondering what exactly it was that he had done wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

_**It's short, boring, and barely edited, but at least it's a chapter. Next one will be longer and more exciting, I promise! I also **__**apologize**____**that this took so long...**_

**_The rights to the Heroes of Olympus and Percy Jackson and the Olympians series belong to Rick Riordan, and the rights to Captain America and Captain America: The Winter Soldier belong to Marvel._**

Hazel ran aimlessly, not knowing where she was headed. The world blurred around her, visions of tall buildings and busy streets mixing with the hot tears in her golden eyes.

At last, she came to a stop, leaning back against the nearest building. She slid to the ground, tucking her knees to her chest and allowing her head to rest upon them, her cinnamon colored curls hiding her face from the world.

"Why does the past insist on haunting me?" she murmured to herself sadly.

"Because you want it to."

Hazel looked up with a start as the familiar voice spoke. Before her stood a thin boy clad all in black, a silver skull ring glinting on his finger and a dark sword hanging from his belt.

Nico di Angelo. Her brother.

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to her. "Frank IM'ed me and told me what's up."

The daughter of Pluto sighed and let her head fall against his shoulder. "I shouldn't have left him like that."

"No, you probably shouldn't have."

"What did you mean before, when you said I wanted the past to haunt me?" asked Hazel, watching the way the light shone off of his ring, contrasting the darkness that seemed to just hang around him, and ever more so since his quest to bring the _Athena Parthenos _to camp.

Nico picked up a jewel that had surfaced between them and inspected it in the light for several moments before answering. "You're not ready to leave the past behind. For a while there, you'd accepted it, but seeing a ghost from your past shook your ties. Suddenly, you were sent back to the start, stumbling around blindly again. Remember how you told me that seeing Leo caused a wave of blackouts? That was because he reminded you so much of your friend, Sammy. But you figured out how the two Valdez's were connected, and the blackouts stopped, or at least for a little while. Now you just need to find out how you and Steve are connected. Figure out how he's here. Don't ask 'why'; ask 'what's next'. Trust me, it'll help."

"Nico, he saw the dracanae. Why was that?"

"Best I can figure," he said thoughtfully, "Is that he's got some godly blood in him. Probably not a recent ancestor, or he would have known by now, but maybe his great grandfather, or his great- great grandfather, or possibly even further. The gods have a lot of kids, and sometimes we do survive to adulthood, you know. He's probably a legacy of some minor god; not enough immortal blood to set monsters after him, but enough to allow him limited vision through the Mist."

Hazel sat up and looked at him. "Really?" she asked, somewhat incredulously. Nico nodded.

"Hazel!"

Both children of death turned their heads towards the voice. Frank was rounding the corner, running towards them.

"Frank…." Hazel stood, and he skidded to a halt in front of her.

"Look, Hazel, I'm really sorry. I know I'm completely useless, and all I can do is mess up, but could you forgive me?"

Hazel took his hand and held it between her fingers. "You're not useless," she said, not meeting his eyes. "You're amazing. And…I should be the one asking for forgiveness."

Frank shook his head adamantly. "No, Hazel. You're just…just stressed about…"

"I know," said the daughter of Pluto. "But I still shouldn't have–"

"No, I should have understood earlier!" he cried. "I'm really really sorry, Hazel!"

"You're both sorry," said Nico from behind Hazel. "And you're both willing to forgive, so there shouldn't be any problem. I think now you need to figure out what you're going to do about Captain America?"

"I-" started Hazel, but Nico held up a hand.

"You're not Piper. You don't have charmspeak. And the Captain has already proven that he can see through the Mist," he said. "Whether he's a legacy of the gods or just some clear-sighted mortal, your manipulation of the Mist probably just confused him more than it did change his view of events. He'll know something's going on, and he'll alert the rest of the Avengers. We don't need them on our tail."

Hazel swallowed. "So what do we do?"

"You're not suggesting we tell him, are you?" asked Frank nervously.

"No. Of course not. I think you need to alert Camp. If there's danger from mortals, then they should know about it, but we've always survived before. Talk to Chiron. Frank, you're the praetor of Camp Jupiter, so you should probably just warn Reyna."

"You think it'll be ok to just ignore him like that?" said Hazel sadly. "He was kind to me…and now there are only three of us that understand. I…part of me doesn't want him to forget."

Nico placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think it'll be fine. And if it's not–if pretending this never happened doesn't work–then you can find Captain America and explain what's going on."

Frank put a hand around her shoulders and squeezed. "Let's go, Hazel."

"Thank you, Nico," the daughter of Pluto said softly as they turned to leave. Her brother inclined his head.

"Any time."

_**See, I told you it was short and boring. Whatever, it was mostly filler. Hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**Hasn't Nico grown up so much?**_


	5. Not-Chapter 5

This isn't a chapter.

I know, I know, and I'm SO sorry. But spring is always insane for me: with end-of-year presentations, play rehearsals, allergies, and pre algebra, I have no time for fan fiction. That and...I suffer from chronic procrastination.

That said, I can promise you more activity in the summer. I'll never be one of those chapter-a-week people (seriously, how is that possible?), but it'll get better. I swear it on Bucky's freaky metal arm.

Other than that, I am here to deliver two things: another promise, and a headcanon. The promise is thus: Chapter Five will be born by next Friday.

And finally the headcanon, delivered in short-story form.

**The Naming of S.H.I.E.L.D**

Agent Phil Coulson was proud to be a member of his organization. He was proud to be party to the secrets deemed to be too much for humanity to handle as a whole. He was proud to be Fury's right hand man.

But something simply _had _to be done about the name.

Coulson had spent long nights in front of a mirror memorizing it. It took a while, but at long last the words rolled off his tongue.

_Strategic Homeland Investigation and Espionage, Logistics Divison. _

Why hadn't they just stuck with _SSR_?

That's why he was here. If anyone had any ideas, it was Margaret Carter. After all, she was one of its founders, and had been acquainted with Howard Stark, Steven Rogers, and the US Military.

He hadn't accounted for her frailty, but there was nothing to be done about that. She smiled at him from the pillow now, her youth remaining in her eyes.

"That's quite a mouthful."

"Yes, that's why I'm here. Any ideas?"

Agent Carter was silent for a long time, so long in fact, that Coulson began to think that her 90-year-old mind had wandered. "An acronym, perhaps," she said finally. "To bring us back to our roots. And maybe..." her brown eyes took on a distant look.

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Shield?"

"S-h-i-e-l-d. S.H.I.E.L.D. We are designed to be a shield to humanity, aren't we? And–" she broke off into a coughing fit, and Coulson thought momentarily that perhaps she was dying. But she wasn't.

"And in his honor." The words came out a quiet mumble as she sank back into the pillow, her eyelids gently closing as she fell into a soft slumber. There was no need to ask in who's honor: it was no secret that Peggy Carter and Captain Steve Rogers had been a bit more than 'just friends'.

A small smile gracing Coulson's lips, he gathered himself up and left the old fighter to her peaceful slumber. _A shield against humanity_, he mused. Almost against his will, his hand reached into his trouser pockets and pulled out one of his vintage trading cards, the patriot figure saluting to him from the yellowed paper.

**_'Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life.'_**


	6. Still-Not-Chapter-Five

**_I'm sorry!_**

**Chapter five is going way slower than it should be...I thought it would be ready, but it's not. I know I promised, and I really hate breaking that promise, but I'm in a play and we've been in Tech all week and tonight is opening night and I haven't had the time to write very much. It's coming...but not fast enough.**

**I am SO SORRY. I'm working as hard as I can. It'll be up as soon as possible. Probably not anytime this weekend, as my show runs through Sunday, but maybe by next Thursday. No promises. I don't want to have to break them again.**

**To help dissuade your wrath, here's a trailer...**

The Avengers Tower loomed before Steve, casting its peculiar shadow across the pavement behind him. What was it about modern people and skyscrapers?

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Spangles?"

"I need a favor.I need information on a certain person."

"You're asking about your HYDRA buddy."

"No. Her name is Hazel."

_Running, hiding, fighting, and Bucky…_

_Rumlow electrocuting him not once, not twice, but three times..._

_Facing down a hostile Quinjet..._

"I said no questions."

"I never agreed to that."


	7. Chapter 5

_**Well, it's here. I told you I'd write it, and I'm actually quite pleased with the way this one turned out. I mean...I cried a little on the inside...but whatever.**_

_**A quick warning about this chapter. This story is rated K+, and so far I believe it has not left those boundaries. I'd like to think that this chapter doesn't either, but it does include angst, alcohol, brief mention of drugs, and a single, minor curse word. The middle two, my friends, are courtesy of a mister Tony Stark. The other two...well, Steve's having a hard time at the moment. Now, don't worry: it's nothing major, and if you've seen the movies you can definitely handle it.**_

_**One more thing. I recently realized something that I hadn't before, and that something is this: Hazel died in 1942. Steve did not become Captain America until 1943. So...ignore it and move on, I guess. We can fudge it a year. **_

_**And now, without any further ado, chapter five.**_

The Avengers Tower loomed before Steve, casting its peculiar shadow across the pavement behind him. He'd never tell Stark, but he still thought it was an ugly building. Though he thought that about most buildings these days…everything seemed unnecessarily tall. What was it about modern people and skyscrapers?

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself to continue on his mission, Steve pressed his hand to a pad by the sliding doors. A green light flared underneath, reading his fingerprints and confirming his identity.

"_Greetings, Captain Rogers_," said the smooth British voice of Tony Stark's AI, JARVIS. The glass doors slid open before him and Steve forged through.

The lobby was empty, as usual. It was a quiet Wednesday, and the Avengers Tower didn't have many visitors, or, for that matter, occupants. Tony had spent the last two months trying to convince them all to move in, but so far it was just Tony himself, Pepper, and Bruce Banner.

Steve was still considering it. After all, now that S.H.I.E.L.D was down it was much harder to pay the rent. Superhero business was surprisingly lacking in a steady income—or, really, any income at all.

But that wasn't why he was here. Steve had a very specific goal in mind, completely separate from any home-hunting, a goal that had to do with a particular encounter from earlier in the day.

_Hazel_.

It was definitely the same girl, and he wasn't imagining that he'd met her before. He just didn't understand how this was possible. And where was she now? Was she safe?

That was his mission here. Stark was a genius, with eyes everywhere, almost as many as Nick Fury himself. If anyone could find Hazel, if anyone was willing to help, it would be Tony.

Steve just had to convince him to help him without asking any questions, a feat that was just about impossible. Tony always asked questions. He wasn't the order-following type.

"Heya, Cap."

The voice sprang from nowhere, making the super-soldier jump and look around frantically before realizing that the genius must be speaking over the building's built-in comm system.

"I'm in my lab. Come on up. If, you know, you can figure out the elevator."

Steve restrained himself from sighing. Of course he knew how to work an elevator. He wasn't stupid, and he'd been working on getting caught up to this modern age.

Besides, JARVIS ran the elevator for him. Like S.H.I.E.L.D's (or HYDRA's) Triskellion lift, it was run on voice commands.

"Tony's lab, please, JARVIS," said Steve, stepping through the silver doors emblazoned with the same _Avengers _logo which rested at the top of the building.

"_Yes, Captain_," said the AI. The doors slid closed and the elevator jolted into motion.

Steve would never admit it, but elevators now made him a bit nervous. After all, his recent experience hadn't been exactly enjoyable. Trapped in a moving glass cage, being outnumbered and attacked by people he had thought he could trust, Rumlow electrocuting him not once, not twice, but three times, and having the gall to proclaim it 'nothing personal'. Then jumping into the air several stories up and crashing through a ceiling to land in a pool of shattered glass on the hard, hard floor. Not being able to rest for even a moment, just running, grabbing his motorcycle, facing down a hostile Quinjet—_which was shooting at him_—and finding Natasha. Then running, hiding, fighting, and Bucky…

_Ding_.

"_Mr. Rogers, we have arrived at Mr. Stark's lab. I will be present if you require any further assistance. _"

Steve swallowed the discomfort that rose in his throat as soon as he stepped into the high-tech lab. Metallic toys shone from polished work-surfaces, and Iron-Man suits lined the walls, their glowing blue eyes seeming to stare at him as he walked past. At the far end of the lab, his back to the captain, a man sat in a spinning chair, hunched over some mechanical object.

"To what do I owe the honor, Spangles?" asked the sardonic voice of Tony Stark as he wheeled around to face Steve. "And don't say it's a pleasure call because I know it's not a pleasure call."

"Stark," said Steve, proud of how even and un-annoyed his voice sounded, though the latter was most definitely a façade. "How are you?"

Tony waved one hand at him while the other reached for a glass of some—most likely alcoholic—beverage, which rested on the table behind him. "Skip the pleasantries, Rogers, and cut to the chase." He swirled the drink inside the glass before raising it to his mouth to take a sip.

"I need a favor."

The billionaire's hand stopped partway to another drink of his not-so-guilty pleasure. "A favor?" he coughed. "You're coming to me for a _favor_? What, need help managing your motorbike or something? Modern life not agreeing with you? 'Cuz I hate to break it to ya, pal, but bringing you up to date isn't a favor, it's a miracle."

Steve really wanted to strangle him.

"Stark, just hear me out. I need information on a certain person."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You're asking about your HYDRA buddy," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. "But we already did this. The guy just doesn't exist. I've given you everything I could find, but—"

"No." Steve cut him off with a shake of his head. "Not him. Someone else. And I need you to not ask questions, just go with it. Please, Tony."

One dark eyebrow rose higher on his face. "No questions? From me? Tough luck, Capsicle."

"Her name is Hazel. Small, black, can't be older than fourteen. Last seen in contact with a boy named Frank. Large, Asian, maybe fifteen or sixteen. "

Tony held up his hands to stop him. "Woah, woah, woah. What now? Why are you looking for two kids?"

"I said no questions."

"I never agreed to that."

Steve crossed his arms, a motion made rather intimidating by his bulging muscles. "Tony…" he said warningly.

"Hey, that's the price of having me around," said the billionaire. "You want something, you gotta at least give me a little in return."

With a sigh, Steve sunk backwards so that he rested against a lab table. "It's complicated," he said wearily.

"Try me."

Blue eyes turned heavenwards, as if sending up a prayer of deliverance from a certain Tony Stark. But Steve Rogers had met a lot of people in his ninety years, and as impossible as the man was, Tony was not the worst. After all, Steve used to hang around Bucky Barnes for fun.

"I met her before."

There went the eyebrow again. "So?"

"No, Tony, _before_ before."

Tony's jaw twitched, as if aching to drop open in imitation of a gasping fish, held back only by the stubborn will of its owner. "Oh."

"Yes."

"Cap, I thought you said she's a kid."

"I did."

"Well." Tony took a large gulp from his glass, finishing off the last of the amber liquid. "I'd offer to get you drunk, but if I recall correctly, that's not happening, right?"

The captain let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, I wish. But apparently it's not possible."

Stark's face screwed up in a picture of distaste. "Man, that sucks. Seriously. Have you tried drugs?"

"We're getting off topic," said Steve, not liking the way the conversation was going and knowing full well that Tony wasn't going to be the one to stop it. "Can you find her or not?"

Tony ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, eyeing his empty glass mournfully. "I can find her, sure, but—"

"Great!" Steve exclaimed. "Good. Thank you, Stark." He straightened himself up and turned towards the door, in a hurry to leave before the man said what Steve knew he would say. "You know how to contact me as soon as you find anything." Waving his old (in modern terms, at least) flip phone in the air, he made a feeble attempt at a joke. "The question is whether or not I'll be able to answer."

"Steve…"

"So, good night. I'll see you in the morning, Tony."

He left in a hurry, but not before hearing the parting words that he dreaded so much.

"Rogers, just don't get your hopes up. In case…you know…it isn't her."

And then the captain was gone.

Steve sat on the fire escape outside of his apartment, legs hanging out into the night. With a sigh he rubbed his calloused hands over his face; he was tired. So, so tired.

What if Stark was right? What if he was just imagining things?

Something had definitely happened, because he couldn't really remember the encounter. He remembered them both from the café; he remembered getting up and following them; he remembered walking away and feeling confused, something tingling at his mind.

But he couldn't actually remember the events in between.

Bits of it were starting to come back to him, bits that repeated the event 70 years ago. Her gold eyes gazing at his, except instead of hope and awe, they were now filled with fear and dread. The boy's brown eyes staring at him defiantly, but not the words that he spoke, not his name. In the café he'd called her Hazel, and for some reason, Steve remembered a certainty that it was, in fact, the same girl.

_"__You might not want to pull on that string."_

That's what Romanoff had told him when she handed him Bucky's file. Her words had played through Steve's head over and over again in the last few weeks. Those words, and others.

_"__Take a break, Cap."_

_"__You sure about this, Steve?"_

_"__Man, you know I'm with you in this, but shouldn't we slow down, at least for a little while?"_

And worse, the words that he wasn't meant to hear, spoken in whispers by his comrades, his friends, whenever he left the room, whenever he turned his back, whenever they thought he couldn't hear.

_"__Rogers is getting obsessive. It's unhealthy."_

_"__So what happens if he _does _find Sergeant Barnes? How's he gonna turn him back?"_

_"__There might be no changing that monster back into a man. I don't think Steve's going to be able to accept that."_

_"__Sir, are you certain he can handle it? Maybe we should give him another mission."_

"I can handle it," whispered Steve to the night. Then, louder. "I can handle it, dammit!"

_"__I do what he does, just slower."_

_"__I'm with you 'till the end of the line."_

_"__Don't you dare be late!"_

Silently, alone and weary, the battle-torn soldier laid his head against the railing in front of him, and, for the first time in 70 years, he finally gave in and wept.


	8. Chapter 6

_**It's here!**_

**_"So soon?" you ask. Yup. What can I say, I was bored._**

**_Ok, so this chapter is mostly filler material. Actually, it's completely filler material, mostly due to the fact that I have no idea what to write. What do you guys think? Who's point of view should be next?_**

**_For the record, most chapters will be either Hazel or Steve, as this is their story. However, it will continue to have cameo chapters by Frank, most likely Nico, and possibly Tony and/or Natasha. Hey, who knows, we might even get a Bucky. (Probably not, but we'll see.)_**

**_So who's next? Should we see Hazel's inner turmoil? Frank's reflections on his girlfriend's equal fragility and strength? More of Steve's carefully masked pain? Tony's bemused confusion as he searches for a girl who just doesn't exist?_**

**_Perhaps a flashback, feat. Peggy Carter?_**

**_It's up to you, guys._**

He hated seeing her like this.

He'd saved her, brought her back and given her another chance at life. He'd saved her in the way he hadn't been able to save Bianca.

It had been hard at first. The shock of being in the twenty-first century had nearly destroyed her, and for months she'd been plagued with flashes to her past. She'd struggled with powers over which she had no control, powers that came with a curse, and he couldn't help her because his own talents were so different.

She was African-American. He was Italian. She was Roman. He was Greek. She was friendly and sweet and kind, and he was…well, he was himself. Cold and removed and everything she wasn't.

But regardless, she was his sister, and he would protect her. He would protect her because he'd fail with his first sister, and he wouldn't fail again.

Frank had been good for her. Nico liked the big guy a lot, liked how he wasn't fazed by the aura given off by the two children of the Underworld. But Nico especially liked seeing the sparkle in Hazel's eyes whenever she looked at him, the way she laughed more whenever he was around. Everything he did brought a smile to her face, and Nico often found himself smiling in return.

Then Percy Jackson showed up, and Nico didn't know what to do. The easy way Percy interacted with everyone hadn't changed, and neither had his stunning smile and beautiful sea-green eyes, but there was one major difference.

Percy didn't remember.

Not a single thing. For a moment, Nico had allowed himself the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, this meant the two of them…

No, that wasn't right. Percy did have one memory.

Annabeth.

Nico really wanted to hate Annabeth, but she was always kind to him, even if he could see he made her slightly uncomfortable. But it hurt him to see them together, at the same time his heart leapt at seeing Percy's happy grin.

Which lead him back to Hazel and Frank.

The two of them immediately took to Percy, as he knew of course they would. He was such an easy role model—strong, talented, confident, funny, a leader—and shy Hazel and insecure Frank needed someone to look up to.

Nico had hidden in the shadows and watched.

Then they'd left on their quest and he'd been captured, and when he finally saw them again, the blackouts had stopped. She'd explained it to him one night, about herself and Leo and Sammy Valdez.

She'd said it was over, and he'd believed her. He'd watched as she gained control over her powers, over the Mist, as she'd grown into a strong, beautiful, formidable demigod warrior, perfectly capable of handling herself and not needing of his protection.

They'd returned from the war happy, everything in place and life back on track. And then this had happened.

Nico remembered Captain America. He'd been from the 40s too, and as a little boy…well, he'd been quite the enthusiast. Mythomagic didn't exist then. Captain America trading cards did.

He hadn't thought about that particular hobby in a long time. It had crossed his mind when they mentioned the man's continued existence on the news, and he'd briefly thought about it while researching the alien attack on New York (which, by the way, he'd missed due to his being on a mission across the globe with an angry Roman praetor, a trigger-happy satyr, and a giant world-saving-all-important-completely useless statue), but he hadn't lingered on it until now.

Hazel had met the man before. Now she'd met him again, and it was hurting her.

Nico didn't like it when his sister was hurting.

He'd told her to forget the encounter, but he wasn't certain that was the right decision. Maybe she would benefit from speaking to the man. Maybe Steve Rogers could help Hazel Levesque understand who she is and why her life has been the way it has been.

Nico stood in the shadows on the rooftop, watching, and beginning to realize something. The man on the fire escape below him was not some great, untouchable hero. He wasn't an invincible shield for humanity. He wasn't the American dream-boy tossing a salute from the trading card.

He was human. Completely human, just like the rest of them.

Nico stared for a few more seconds. He'd just come to look, just for a moment. He wasn't sure what had drawn him here, but when he'd come and seen the broken man below, at first he hadn't been able to believe his eyes.

Yes, Captain America could help Hazel Levesque. But maybe Hazel Levesque could help Steve Rogers, too.

Quietly, Nico took one last look, before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows.


	9. Author's Note

Hey guys.

I think I should just let you know what's going on with this story and explain why I haven't been posting.

So it's the beginning of summer and I'm just spitting out chapter after chapter after chapter, and then June hits and suddenly it's time for Camp NaNoWriMo.

I stop writing Kindred Souls/Spirits. I start writing my own novel.

Sometime last summer, I started a show called Supernatural. Maybe you've heard of it?

My muse wouldn't shut up about it. My muse refused to write anything other than a Supernatural fanfic.

So I put my novel aside for later and wrote that fanfic for a month.

Camp ends and I figure, ok, now I'll go back to Kindred Souls/Spirits.

Except somehow I managed to pause in the MIDDLE of a sentence. In the MIDDLE of a thought. And that thought is now gone and I have MASSIVE writer's block.

And my muse keeps sending me one-shot ideas. So I wrote two of those, one Good Omens/Supernatural, one Doctor Who/Supernatural. I wrote eleven chapters of a Supernatural fanfic. (Noticing a theme yet?) And I wrote a paragraph of this story.

My dear, beloved writers, I am trying my best to get you a chapter of this. But because I was extremely foolish, I started another freaking story.

I am by no means quitting this. I intend to finish it. I just want to warn you that it may be awhile, because it is resisting being written like a cat in the bathtub.

Yeah. So I apologize, but that's the way it is.

On a side note, in case you didn't already know, this story is both in the Captain America/Percy Jackson section and the Avengers/Percy Jackson section. I'm beginning to think this is somewhat silly, so I shall soon be deleting it from the Captain America zone. You'll still be able to find it in the Avengers category, but for those of you following the Captain America one, I shall give you a week to switch over to the Avengers. If you click on my name, it'll take you to my page. On my page you'll find the Avengers thingy. Click it. Follow it. Favorite it. Whatever. It's identical in every way.

Bye now! Again, I'm sorry for the long wait!

~Bianca Valdez


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